On the Other Side of the Mirror
by elvenblades
Summary: Harry is sick of the wizarding world expecting him to be their savior and decides to take control of his own life. HPDM SLASH ch 4 up finally!
1. Walk Away

Disclaimer: yeah, I know the drill…none of the characters, places, etc. belong to me…except the plot. That's all mine to keep for my own sick pleasure:)

On the Other Side of the Mirror

Walk away

"Move it, you lazy boy!" 

"No", came the calm, steady reply from the raven-haired young man sitting across the table from his red-faced uncle.

It was a bright Tuesday morning at the end of the summer and, like all other days, Uncle Vernon was yelling at his nephew to clear the table of the meager meal. Dudley's diet was slowly but surely taking effect, though even after about three years the family was still on it. Grapes had been Petunia's choice of fruit for that morning, much to the dismay of the males. The Weasleys and Hermione still sent him food, but for once in his life, Harry Potter no longer cared about their packages and letters. Their pitied tones and underlying hope disgusted him. Everything went under the loose floorboard. He felt that he would rather starve than accept that. He didn't want their pity, their troubles, and, above all, he didn't want the whole fucking wizarding world to look at him like he was some kind of symbol of their freedom. An guardian there to protect them from the big bad wolf. They controlled him, manipulated him for their own uses and yet, didn't tell him anything. They expected him to be their savior. All Harry wanted to do was to lead his own life.

At almost seventeen, Harry was tall, nearing six feet with tanned skin and nicely muscled shoulders and abs from laboring in the garden and playing Quidditch. At night, during his sixth year and this summer, he had also taken to going out running, often for many hours at a time. It relaxed him and provided the silence for which he yearned. The glasses were replaced with contacts, as he was sick of always breaking the goddamn things. His hair, unruly as ever, had ironically flattened out a bit after he decided that it was no use paying any attention to the uncooperative mess. His presence had also changed. Gone was the scared, skinny little boy that had trembled at the Sorting Hat. In his place stood a powerful man, physically and magically. Life had dealt him a cruel hand, and he learned the rules very quickly. It had hardened him, and his mighty walls of steel were built high and strong. Harry had lost far too many people to trust easily.

"NOW!" Shouted Vernon, is face turning purple beneath his bristled toothbrush mustache.

Harry's green eyes glittered coldly at his uncle. "Fuck you," he whispered, and then turned on his heel and walked out the front door into the warm sunshine. He was sick to death of their whining, their demands and the way they treated him like he wasn't even human.

He walked swiftly down the empty street until reached a black '95 Ford Mustang coupe which he had affectionately deemed his 'baby'. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring of keys. Opening the boot, he took a quick inventory of everything. School trunk, Firebolt, his laptop, several chemistry books (organic, inorganic, physical, polymer, and computational), a Princeton Review text ("Your Guide to Acing the SATs!"), six cases of bottled water, and his cell phone, which he grabbed. 

When Harry had come back to Little Whinging after his sixth year he went to Gringotts and took out a few thousand galleons, a mere fraction of what was there. He converted the money to pounds and then walked out of the wizarding world feeling much better than he had in a long time. Before heading back to the Dursley's he went on a shopping spree: electronics, books, and a shitload of water. 

Harry put the keys in the ignition, flipped on the cd player, filling the air with strains of Kenny Chesney. Giving the car some gas, Harry Potter drove down the street, leaving the life with his relatives behind forever.

As he pulled onto the highway, Harry began to review his options. He could drive to London and take the train to Hogwarts, although the thought of spending several hours on the train with a bunch of kids who viewed him as a god was highly unappealing at the moment. Realizing that the term did not start for another week, he decided, 'what the hell, I'll just drive there myself'.

Resigning himself to the road, Harry's mind began to drift back to the year before. Through the entire summer after his fifth year, the grief and guilt ate away at his insides until he was numb to all feelings and emotions. When school started again he pushed people away, including Ron and Hermione whom had finally gotten together. Harry desperately missed Sirius and was still coming to terms with the prophecy, which he began to dislike more and more. Depression set it, bringing along with it insomnia. The nights were spent running for hours and then lying by the lake. The small waves would wash over him, and his thoughts left, taking him to regions where the rest of the world had faded. And so the year passed, his slightly suicidal thoughts creating anger at the prophecy, Dumbledore, and the rest of the wizarding world for placing all their hopes in him. 

In late March McGonagall requested another meeting about his commencing his Auror training after his seventh year. She gave him several papers to fill out and sternly told him not to miss the deadline coming up. A few days later he took them outside to do at the lake. But instead, one by one, he let the waves devour them, not really knowing why.

Just after exams, something changed. He had an epiphany, if you will. Harry came to the conclusion that sitting around on his ass moping about how pissed off he was at the wizarding world for expecting so much from him wasn't going to do anything. He realized that if he was not going to become an Auror, he basically had no future plans for life among magical folk. Not that this bothered him. The Gryffindor was tired of the press, the attention, and the damn scar.

Listening to the steady pounding of his feet on the paths around Hogwarts a couple nights later, Harry began to think long and hard about a future outside of the world he had known for over six years.

Two weeks later, his insomnia had all but disappeared.

Harry shook his head violently, attempting to keep himself awake. Glancing at the glowing green clock on the cd player it registered that the time was 1:34 am. 

"Bloody fucking hell" he muttered to himself. An hour later he found himself checking into a dumpy hotel at a rest stop. He showered quickly and then crawled into the queen-sized bed wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, beyond exhausted.

Harry groaned, looking blearily at the clock on the wooden bedside table. 9:46 am. "So much for an early start," he grumbled. Pulling on a long sleeved T-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit snug around his slim hips (he had to buy his own clothes finally—Dudley was now four inches shorter and still several inches wider), and ran his hand through the black shock of hair. He wandered down to the café he had spotted earlier at the ungodly hour of two in the morning. It was empty save for a couple girls in a booth on the other side of the restaurant near the wall. Sliding into a seat at the bar, he rubbed his hands over his face.

"What can I get for you, mate?"

Harry looked up. Standing in front of him was a young man, no older than twenty-five, with straight, dark hair that was cut short. Clad in a T-shirt, dark jeans, and a dirty apron, he had a glass in his hand that he was wiping dry.

"Uh, coffee, thanks. Black." He replied to the handsome bartender, who nodded and turned away.

Suddenly Harry felt someone behind him, running their hands up his chest. He jumped back from the touch. It was one of the two girls that were there earlier. The other was nowhere to be seen. She had curly dirty blond hair, and far too much eyeliner. She was wearing a tight, revealing tank and low cut jeans over tall heels. 

"Hey sexy," she purred, "wanna get laid?"

Harry panicked for a second, then coolly came back with, "No thanks. I had a better one last night."  


She pulled herself off of him and flounced out of the room. Stopping just before the door, she called back to him, "I'm Candi, by the way. With an i."

Harry turned back to the bar, rolling his eyes. "Fucking whores."

He heard a low snicker in the vicinity in behind the counter. The man turned around and set a steaming mug of coffee down, his eyes dancing with mirth. Harry grinned.

"She's had it coming for a long time. The girls come in and out every once in a while, trying to make a pitiful living. Bloody scare off a lot of customers. Don't think she's ever gotten that remark before, though." He smiled warmly, and extended his hand. "Kevin Cacham."

Harry took it, "Harry Potter." Kevin's light blue eyes flickered upwards, the movement that was so familiar in the wizarding world to Harry. He blatantly stared at Kevin. "Are you a…"

"A wizard?" He supplied to the confused Gryffindor, who merely nodded. "I used to be."

"You used to be?" Harry echoed. "How can someone stop being a wizard?"

"You can't."

"Then how…?"

"I left that world a long time ago." He responded slowly, his eyes watching something that only he could see.

Harry leaned back in his seat, his green eyes flooded with a mix of emotions. "I understand." 

Kevin gave him a sad smile and went back to cleaning the glasses. Harry watched in silence for a few minutes before speaking again.

"So what do you do now?"

"Bartending." Said the man simply, " All over England, days and nights. It's a great job—free drinks, a liquor license, and you meet a lot of interesting people. I have quite a few contacts now."

Harry abruptly looked up. "Any way you could hook me up with some SATs over Christmas break?"

Kevin stroked his lower lip, lost thought. "Yeah," he said after a moment, "I have a friend in Chelsea who might be able to help you out."

After exchanging email, cell numbers, etc., they said goodbye and Harry checked out.

The Boy Who Lived arrived at Hogwarts a few days later, just as the sun was sinking beyond the horizon. Peering through the twilit mist, he caught sight of the Hogwarts Express, rumbling away in the darkness. "Talk about good timing…" he muttered to himself.

Not wanting to 'arrive with a bang' again, as Snape so delicately put it when he and Ron crashed into the Whomping Willow second year, Harry ducked into one of the carriages behind a group of rowdy third years. He figured he would just try to blend in with the crown and then come up with an explanation for Ron and Hermione later when he got a chance.

Unfortunately, that chance never came.

"Where the hell were you!?" The red-haired boy, now an inch shorter than Harry, was storming down the stone hall toward him.

"We were worried sick about you." Put in Hermione, the anxiety obvious in her eyes.

Any remote excuse that Harry had come up with so far vanished down the drain.

"Talk to someone who cares, please." He replied coldly.

"Harry, what happened to you…"

"I finally woke up and realized that I am nothing to the wizarding world. Only their key to a Voldemort-free world. I'm not even a person, just a symbol. They don't give a damn about me, or how bad they hurt me. They simply don't fucking care. Hermione," he continued, his voice softening, "I'm living the wrong life here. I'm trapped. Tied down with a prophecy, and controlled by expectations that are inescapable. I want to fly, to be free. And you guys and the rest of the world are fucking it all up." He glanced at the redhead, whose eyes darkened.

"Come on, Hermione. We are obviously not wanted here." Ron picked up Hermione's hand and pulled her away, while she looked back at the dark-haired young man uncertainly. 

Harry sighed and leaned back against the wall. He let his head fall back wearily onto the hard stone wall with a resounding _thwack_. He closed his eyes and slid down the stone until he reached the floor. He dimly recognized the sound of footsteps approaching, but he was too weary to open his eyes to find out who it was. A hand nudged his shoulder he opened one eye slightly and saw a hand in front of his face holding out a smoking cigarette. He gratefully took it from the hand and dragged hard, feeling all of his muscles relax as he breathed out the smoke. Handing it back to the person, he opened his eyes fully and turned to the body next to him. 

"Bloody fucking hell!" Harry jerked away from the blond.

"Scared, Potter?"

Harry recovered quickly. "Of what, Malfoy? A Death Eater?"

Malfoy's eyes went from humorous to serious at the Gryffindor's words. "I'm not a Death Eater, Potter," He answered quietly, his eyes staring down the empty hall, looking at nothing and at everything. And for some reason beyond his comprehension, Harry believed him.

"And so passes the famous Gryffindor Trio." Malfoy's intoxicating gaze met Harry's again.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Malfoy snapped his fingers under Harry's nose. "Wake up, Leo. You know exactly what I'm talking about. I've watched you the entire last year. You pushed away your friends, and your life. You didn't give a damn about anything or anyone. You didn't eat or sleep. Potter, you were fucking suicidal."

Harry stared at the young man, curiosity shining excitedly in his eyes. "You've been watching me, Malfoy?"

Malfoy flushed and looked away. "You know I have," he muttered.

Harry looked critically at his nemesis. Malfoy's body screamed sex appeal, with his pale, flawless skin, white blond hair hanging in long straight bangs over icy silver eyes. Harry had long known that he was gay, a fact that he had to guard very secretly from his uncle, but he had no idea that Malfoy swung that way.

"What happened to us, Malfoy?" Harry's eyes mournfully lingered on the floor, deep in thought.

"What do you mean?"

"Why have we done nothing but fight for six years?"

Malfoy dragged on his cigarette. "I dunno," he said after a while, "Maybe because there is nothing better to do."

He turned his head to Harry and ran his finger impulsively down the side of his jaw.

Harry froze. That like touch sent a shock through him like he was struck by a bolt of lightening. Draco leaned toward the ebony-haired boy, their eyes caught in each other's hypnotizing depths.


	2. Know Thy Enemy

On the Other Side of the Mirror

Chapter 2: Know Thy Enemy

Malfoy leaned in further and placed his soft pink lips on Harry's, engaging in a searing kiss. Harry opened his mouth, welcoming the warmth of Malfoy's tongue, tasting him thoroughly. They broke off after a moment, gasping for breath. 

Suddenly, they heard footsteps coming down the adjacent hall.

"Draco, go!" Harry whispered fiercely to him. 

Malfoy caught his hand, "When am I going to see you again?"

***************************************************************************

Harry made his way to the Great Hall, his mind whirling so fast that he felt a bit dizzy. _He kissed me. Draco fucking Malfoy kissed me. And I kissed him back. What's wrong with me? We're mortal enemies, supposed to hate each other forever. He's a Slytherin, and I'm a Gryffindor._

Then, once more, it dawned on him. This was yet another way the wizarding world was controlling him. Not it's people, but it's unspoken rules and ethics. Gryffindors and Slytherins just didn't mix. 

__

And since when did he become 'Draco'? I'm definitely cracking.

Yes, you are. And you're too afraid too admit that you like him.

Shut up!

Admit it. You think he's hot.

No, he's not. Not really. Okay, maybe just a little. 

A little?

Um, yeah. 

A little?

Alright! I think he's hot. Very hot.

Told you so.

Shut up! Shit, I'm having a conversation with myself.

Harry strode purposely over to the Gryffindor table and, ignoring Hermione's wave that was motioning him over, he went to sit next to Dean, Neville, and Seamus. Glancing over at the Slytherin table, in what he hoped was a casual way, he caught Draco's eye. The silver orbs, which he could clearly see from across the hall, were glowing with contentment and excitement.

Harry felt giddy.

*********************************************************************

The next day, Harry caught up with Malfoy after breakfast, pulling him into an isolated alcove in the wall. He kissed him fiercely before whispering, "Meet me at midnight in the Astronomy Tower," before gently pushing him back into the river of students flooding the halls.

A moment later, Harry emerged himself and headed down to the dungeons for Double Potions. 

"Today we will be making Healing potions. Instead of bottling just one from each person, you will bottle as many as possible, provided that your potion is the right color." Snape sneered at the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins, as if to sneer his doubt into their heads. 

Someone piped up, "Why are we bottling so many?" 

Snape glared at the person, his dark eyes glittering. "Madame Pomfery needs them for the hospital patients. The number of war casualties is rising rapidly." 

Whispers followed this statement. It was public knowledge that the Hospital Wing was being used as a facility to heal not just students now, but also other people, most of whom were members of the Order (not that the student body realized this). Harry could feel through the link in his scar that Voldemort was growing stronger, although it was slow. 

"Silence!" The professor bellowed.

"The potion is on 205-212 in the text and ingredients are in the cupboard as usual." Snape stared at them for a moment, his eyes boring into theirs. "What are you waiting for? A private invitation? Get moving!"

An hour later, Harry's potion was a bubbling purple liquid, the correct color. Snape sneered again and swept past his cauldron.

Harry, however, was not particularly surprised. Toward the end of last year and during the summer (right after his seventeenth birthday, the age of adulthood in the wizarding world) he noticed an enhancement in his magical abilities. After a little research, Harry came to the conclusion that this improvement was a result of his anger and frustration at the world around him. There was a great deal of pent up energy inside of himself and this was channeled to his magical core. Besides finding that his Occlumency walls were tighter and stronger, he discovered that he could do wandless magic. This was quite on accident—he didn't realize that his wand was not in his hand, and he preformed a simple 'lumos' while searching for his shoes in the dark closet. Additionally, he taught himself to Apparate, although he realized that it wouldn't be much use to him once he graduated from Hogwarts. _'If I graduate from Hogwarts.' _ He had thought to himself at the time, not really knowing what the future had in store for him.

And although he had not tried it yet, apparently his potions abilities had gotten better too.

Unfortunately, Snape had not changed. Once Harry had put his first bottle on the front counter, he heard the delicate crash of breaking metal. He whirled around, the sound all too familiar to him. Snape smirked as he looked at the broken bottle, the potion creating a nasty stain on the cold floor. Harry glared back, sick of the professor's tactics.

"You greasy bastard! You did that on purpose!"

Snape's voice got dangerously soft, "50 points from Gryffindor, Potter, for insulting and accusing a teacher."

"Accusing you? Who else would do that?" He gestured at the broken bottle on the floor and the liquid that was rapidly being absorbed into the cracks of the stone floor.

"Detention, Potter." Snape's eyes were gleaming.

Harry rolled his own eyes and turned to go back to his seat, nonchalantly waving his hand. The broken glass and fluid disappeared. He sat down, aware of the fact that the entire room was staring at him like he had grown a second head.

"A week of detentions, for disrespecting a teacher."

Harry glared back at him. "Fuck you."

"200 points!" The professor thundered, his face a nasty mix of colors; somewhere between yellow and green, patched with red.

"Fuck you." Harry echoed, spurred on by Snape's reaction and getting angrier by the minute. He stood up, knocking his chair to the ground and strode out of the room, the anger so thick that it could be cut by a knife.


	3. Sadistic Tendencies

Sorry this one took so long, bloody writers block. Maybe more reviews would get me to hurry up…hint hint

Chapter 3

Sadistic Tendencies

Harry strode to the other side of the castle toward a little alcove below a window on the western side. Here was the place that he came to stew over his anger and to cry. Countless nights he had sat on the wide ledge watching the sunset or the torrents of clean rain that came down in sheets, pounding on the windows. These were the times that he most yearned for a normal life. A life free of duty and expectation. A life in which he could be who he wanted to be, not what everyone else wanted him to be.

Suddenly, two arms with long, pale fingered-hands snaked their way around Harry's chest, briefly startling him. Smooth lips descended on his neck and shoulder muscles, exploring the silky skin over taut muscle. Harry turned his head to the side, exposing the rest of his neck for Draco's pleasure. He turned his head back, so he was facing Draco, and pulled his lips toward his own into an aching kiss. Breaking off the passionate embrace after a moment, for need of air, Harry glanced down at his shoulder, still gasping for oxygen.

"You branded me!"

Draco began to laugh and sat down next to the Gryffindor. "You better get used to branding, Leo," His voiced dropped lower, "It makes you look sexier."

Harry rolled his bright green eyes, "I didn't know you were such a sadist, Malfoy."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, _Potter_."

With a sly smile, Harry replied, "Well, I guess I'll just have to find out."

Draco shifted so he was more comfortable and pulled Harry against his chest. "Are you okay, Leo?"

Harry could hear the genuine concern that laced Draco's voice, "Yeah. Snape's such a bastard, though. God, I hate him."

The blond shrugged. "He's alright." At Harry's pointed look, he clarified, "He's my godfather."

Dark eyebrows shot up, "You're godfather?" He asked, in disbelief. Draco smiled, and Harry leaned back against him. A moment later he spoke up again. "Why is this working?"

Draco pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a red lighter he also pulled out, "What's working?"

" This," He motioned to the two of them, "us."

The Slytherin thoughtfully dragged on the cigarette before handing it to the young man in his arms. "I don't really know." He paused for a moment. "Maybe it's the fact that you defy anything and everything that stands in your way. I wish I could be like that."

"What the hell are you talking about? You are by far the most controversial person I've ever met. Well, except Voldemort. I guess a psychotic lunatic who has plans for world domination is pretty controversial."

Draco snickered. "Yeah, I can stand up to other students, but never my father. Goddamn Crucio hurts too much."

Harry stared at him in shock. "Your own father put Crucio on you?" Fuck, Dray, Voldemort is one thing, but your own father…"

"How long did Voldemort have you under it?"

Harry laughed cynically, "Which time?"

Draco met his eyes, the grey orbs filling with painful understanding.

"The longest was 23 minutes, back in fourth year when he returned." Draco's pale eyebrows shot up in amazement. Harry sighed, "What about you? Why didn't you join him?"

The blond shook his head, "Because I'm too fucking proud. I'm too proud to get down on my hands and knees to kiss the robes of a bastard whose alter ego is a snake."

"And here I've been thinking for years that it's your life goal," Harry replied, smirking.

"Most do. The whole fucking wizarding world is nothing but one big stereotype."

Harry smiled at him, feeling another connection weaving him closer to the young man in front of him, and then remembered the amount of work waiting for him. He clambered off the windowsill, leaving the warm cocoon of the other boy's smooth body. "Thanks, Dray. I feel a lot better." He paused, "But Snape is still a bastard."

Draco burst out laughing and pulled the Gryffindor's head back down for a gentle kiss.

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Harry strode down the stony corridor out of the Common Room, his laptop in a dark bag hanging on one broad, tan shoulder. Heading into the darkened Great Hall, he was glad to see that the tables were still open in their long parallel rows far below the stars, glittering in their high vaults above.

He set up his laptop on the table and then waved his hand above it, muttering '_Electrium'_' to himself. Harry had figured out that magic is simply another force in the universe that is generated, just like electricity. In this manner, he had figured out a way to get muggle electronics to run off of magic. In truth, he had gotten the idea from Mr. Weasley.

Harry opened up his organic chem book, and started reading where he had left off, taking notes on his laptop. After a couple of hours he took a break and emailed Kevin, the guy he met at the hotel, inquiring as to if he could really help him find a way to take the SATs.

Grinning to himself, Harry went back to his work, not noticing a dark figure silhouetted in the doorway of the Great Hall.

Around four he closed the chemistry book, powered down his laptop and put everything back in the dark bag. Deciding that he really had no desire to go into the boy's dormitories, Harry headed down to his favorite spot by the lake. He lay down on the soft cool grass and stared up at the bright stars looking down on him as the small waves lapped at his feet and muscular calves.

A light sleeper as always, the young man awoke with the rising of the sun peeping over the treetops in the pale east. Harry got up and stretched lazily, basking in the early morning wind and the feel of the warm sun on his face. Turning around his gaze caught the enormous black shape of the castle, and his face darkened once more with anger and resentment. He walked slowly back into the building, bracing himself for yet another day in this terrible prison.

Harry started up the steps leading toward Gryffindor Tower to take a shower, when he realized with a jolt that he had completely forgotten to meet Draco in the Astronomy Tower. Turning around, he raced down the stairs in the direction of the tower, desperately hoping that by some miracle Draco would still be there.

Even after ten minutes of sprinting up stairs and down corridors, his breathing was completely normal, due to the vigorous amount of running he did. Climbing up the last winding staircase, Harry opened up the heavy door to reveal the blond sleeping peacefully in one of the chairs. The rising sun shined its light though one of the windows, the rays illuminating the pale skin and glistening hair, making Harry smile. He silently went to Draco's side and ran his hand through the soft blond hair.

Draco's eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep. He smiled faintly as he caught sight of the raven-haired young man kneeling down next to him.

"Hey", he said hoarsely.

Harry smiled. "G'morning", He replied.

Draco stretched his arms over his head until his back popped satisfyingly. He looked back at Harry, grey eyes meeting green. Harry shivered slightly, Draco's eyes, while looking at him with nothing but adoration also had a trace of a familiar emotion. An emotion that he saw every morning in the mirror. The chills ran back up his spine.

"What's wrong?" Draco inquired, noticing the other young man's odd look; he was staring at the blond, but his eyes were looking far beyond the beautiful face in front of him.

Harry shook his head, as if shaking out thoughts that he didn't want in his mind.

"It's nothing."

Draco stroked his thumb down the graceful curve of Harry's neck. "C'mon, Leo. Tell me." He replaced his thumb with his mouth, sending lightening down Harry's body.

"Do you get nightmares?" Harry blurted out, afraid to lose his nerve if it didn't come out now.

Draco sat back, comprehension dawning in the silver pools. He stared at Harry for a moment, his features empty of emotion. He leaned forward and ran his hand through Harry's dark hair, pulling their heads together until their foreheads were touching. Harry closed his eyes, tears running down his cheeks. Neither one spoke; no words were needed.

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Harry Potter opened his green eyes to stare into the darkness of the dorm. He tried to stop the wide grin spreading across his face, but to no avail. Harry turned around and buried his face in his pillow, trying not to laugh like a maniac.

He had just woken from an amazing dream of a certain blond-haired Slytherin, and waves of giddiness were rising in his stomach. _Ye Gods, I'm acting like a love-struck thirteen-year old girl._

Yes, you most certainly are.

Shut up!

You suggested it in the first place…

Yeah, but you didn't have to encourage it. Shit, I'm arguing with myself again. Bloody great.

You need me. You know it. I know it.

SHUT UP! THERE'S ONLY ONE FUCKING PERSON HERE!

Harry shook his head violently, and rolled over to look at the clock. 3:38. He groaned out loud and hit his pillow with his face in frustration.

A moment later he decided to just admit that he was not going to get back to sleep. Harry tumbled out of the bed and pulled a pair of dark blue basketball shorts over his boxers, put on his contacts in the dark, stabbing himself in the eye without an mirror, and tiptoed out of the dorm.

He stumbled down the darkened stair and through the common room, climbed out of the Fat Lady's portrait, waking her up.

Running out of the large stone front doors, he breathed deeply the early morning air. A cool breeze blew through his rumpled hair and he glanced up at the stars, bright in the dark blanket of the sky.

Harry walked down to the lake and washed his face in the freezing water. He got up from the shore and stretched out his muscles starting with his neck and going all the way down to his quads and calves, purposefully cracking his neck, back and knuckles as he went.

All stretched out, he started his usual path around the castle, encircling the forbidden forest, and coming up near the lake at a reasonably fast pace, enjoying the steady beat of his trainers against the hard ground.

Just before eight o'clock, he slowed down into a jog and then into a walk, cooling down. Harry ran a hand across his forehead wiping off the sweat threatening to drip into his eyes. He wiped off his hand on his bare chest, which was already covered in a sheen of sweat that him glow in the early morning light.

Please, please, please review! I need it. I want it. So do you.


	4. Stars of Love

Ok, I can see that we are having some problems with the SATs. Harry has to take them (the American ones) in order for the rest of the plot to work…you'll have to wait though. Even still, it's my story, and if I want to put in SATs, I will. So if you see SATs anywhere in this fic, I'm talking about the American ones.

Chapter 4:

Stars of Love

Hermione caught Harry's hand as they were being ushered into the Transfiguration classroom by McGonagall for their last class of the day.

"We need to talk, Harry."

Harry looked at her coldly, angry words on the tip of his tongue about to tell her to stop butting into his business. But the words stuck in his throat when he brought his eyes up to meet hers.

"Okay," He replied quietly. He glanced at the classroom door to his right, "What about class?"

Hermione shrugged. He stared at her in disbelief. "You're skiving off Transfiguration?"

The brown-haired girl smiled, "This is more important."

"More important." He echoed. "What could possibly be more important than class?"

Hermione gave him an exasperated look, and pulled him off into the other direction.

Walking into an empty classroom, the brown-haired girl drew up a chair for herself, and watched as Harry did one for himself, wandlessly.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke. "Why are you doing this, Harry?"

"Doing what?" He replied, icily.

"Pushing us away, you act like you don't care…"

"That's right, Hermione," He spat out in the same cold voice, "I don't care. The entire summer, you guys did nothing but pity me. You've known me for six years, you know that I hate pity above all else. Everyone expects me to be their little savior, and yet, they refuse to let me in on anything; they try to control me. Oh, let's not worry about Voldemort, Harry Potter can take care of him—that's his job, right? And Hermione, I am so fucking sick of it. I'm not their savior, why must they place the weight of the world on my shoulders?"

Hermione looked at the man in front of her, sadly. "You're right, Harry. They shouldn't do that to you." She paused for a minute, thinking about what Harry had said to her, before speaking up again. "What were you doing with a laptop in the Great Hall the other night?"

Harry grinned wryly. "Ever the sly one, aren't we?" Hermione blushed slightly. After looking at her face for a moment, Harry reached into his bag and pulled out his organic chem book, handing it to her.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "This is what you were doing?"

"Yeah, that and arranging to take the SATs over Christmas." He answered nonchalantly.

Her eyes came up to meet his. "You don't plan on staying in the wizarding world after graduation, do you?" She whispered, somewhat to herself.

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes, "Let's see if I even get that far…" He trailed off, looking out the window.

"What do you mean?"

Harry sighed, "What's the point? What reason to I have for staying in this hellhole?"

She leaned back in her chair, smiled and crossed her legs, mischief flashing across her face, "Draco Malfoy."

Harry gaped at her. Hermione snickered, and answered his stare, "I've seen you two together…"

He pulled himself together and grinned with an evil look in his eyes, "We make you hot, don't we?"

"Harry Potter!"

Harry just laughed and ran out of the room, ducking under her outstretched arms, a look of outrage on her face.

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Harry strode past the transfiguration door briefly hearing McGonagall lecture about multiple object transfiguration, a subject they had begun a few weeks ago. Much to the Professor's astonishment, Harry has mastered the concept within a couple days, faster then Draco, who was at the top of the class, or even Hermione, who had become a little flustered in that class ever since.

He walked swiftly down to the lake and sat down, deep it thought. _How can I do this to Draco? I care for him a lot, but I can't stay here. It's not where I belong. How can I choose between Draco and my dreams?_

His musings continued in this vein for quite some time; he missed dinner and barely noticed the sun go down over the forest or the moon rise hours later.

And once again his thoughts were interrupted by smooth lips on his. Harry inhaled deeply, smelling the cool scent of vanilla and kiwi that was Draco. He pulled the tall blond onto his lap and flicked his tongue over his lips, Draco opened his mouth for Harry; his tongue exploring areas already memorized. Their hands ran over each other's hard bodies until they were gasping with desire.

They made slow, fierce love under the stars until dawn broke, the waves washing over their sweaty bodies.

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Yay! They did it! Sorry this one is so short (the writers block is kicking in again—I will gladly welcome any ideas), the more reviews I get the longer the chapters will be…I haven't gotten one flame yet, well, kinda. It wasn't a real flame ;) Anyway, thanks to all my reviewers, I love you guys!

Btw, how you spell "blonde"—is it with or without the final 'e'? I've seen it both ways. Personally, I've liked blonde for girls and blond for guys (like Draco's blond hair) heh. But is one way for England and one for America? Again, please review—they are my slashy food…

-elvenblades


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